


The Secret Santa Act of 2009: Gag Gifts Gone Wrong

by sarken



Category: Fake News RPF, Real News RPF
Genre: FNFF SeSa 2009, Gen, Pundit Round Table Plus, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-30
Updated: 2009-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 08:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarken/pseuds/sarken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The roundtable has a holiday gift exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret Santa Act of 2009: Gag Gifts Gone Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Jesidres in the FNFF Secret Santa. Her prompt was:   
> 
>
>> Pairing/character(s): Keith, Rachel (Anderson optional, shipping optional)  
> Prompt: Holiday gifts  
> Title: Gag gifts gone wrong  
> Kink: Whips and chains

**December 17, 2009**

"You know what we need?" Stephen asks, his eyes lighting up as he looks around the table at his friends. He has that look in his eyes, the same look he had last month, when he suggested matching bowling shirts before bargaining his way down to a secret pundit handshake.

"More eggnog?" Jon guesses. He frowns at the dusting of nutmeg sprinkled over the milky contents of his glass.

"Better eggnog?" Rachel grins despite her complaint.

Keith groans and looks toward the ceiling. "Rach, please, enough about the White House eggnog."

Rachel shrugs and takes a swig of her drink. "I'm just saying, the White House eggnog was good eggnog."

"I'm sure it was," Anderson says, cutting in smoothly before Rachel and Keith can go three more rounds regarding White House parties and Roger Ailes. "What do we need, Stephen?"

"A Christmas cookie exchange." Stephen grins, proud of his idea.

Four sets of unamused eyes stare at him, and then comes a flurry of excuses.

"Jewish."

"Can't eat wheat."

"Yeah, I don't cook."

"My oven's full of books."

Stephen, Jon, and Anderson turn to look at Rachel. It's Anderson who manages the question. "Isn't that a fire hazard?"

"It's not like I have the gas connected or anything," Rachel says, making a vague, dismissive gesture before raising her eggnog to her lips. She takes a sip and sets the glass back on the table, tapping her finger against the rim. "It's a small apartment. I need the room."

"Couldn't you, I don't know, _move_?" Jon asks.

Keith shakes his head. "Don't," he says, sounding defeated and tired, like he has had this discussion many times. "It's not worth it."

"I think you should turn the gas on," Stephen says, and everyone shifts their attention back to him. "What? It's not like I'm trying to kill her. I just enjoy the smell of books burning. It's like the smell of an apple pie baking, or the smell of sulfur after fireworks and gunfights. One of the great American bouquets."

"Gunfights?" Jon asks. "When's the last time you were at a gunfight?"

Ignoring Jon, Stephen plows ahead. "But since you all insist on denying me burning books and freshly baked cookies, I'll offer you the chance to make it up to me with presents of your choosing. What we need is a Secret Santa."

More excuses accompany more unamused stares.

"I'd love to, but I really don't have the time."

"Still Jewish."

"I don't like you people."

"Actually," Rachel says, interrupting the grumbling, "I like it."

Stephen grins, Jon and Anderson glare, and Keith sighs.

"Can we vote on this?" Anderson asks. "Maybe get a show of hands? Because I'm pretty sure the vote tally is going to be three to two, against the motion. That's a victory even by the current Senate standards."

Rachel and Stephen trade looks before Rachel says, "Since we don't have the power of the filibuster on our side, we ask that it be a roll call vote starting with Jon and moving clockwise around the table."

"All right." Jon thunks his glass on the table like some sort of gavel. "We'll be voting on passage of the Secret Santa Act of 2009. Mr. Stewart, presiding officer, votes nay. Mr. Cooper?"

"Nay."

"Mr. Cooper votes nay. Mr. Colbert?"

Stephen pushes his chair back, stands, says, "Yea," and sits back down.

"Mr. Colbert votes yea. Dr. Maddow?"

"Yea."

"Dr. Maddow votes yea. The vote is currently tied at two yeas and two nays, with the deciding vote to be cast by Mr. Olbermann. Mr. Olbermann?" Jon asks, and all eyes focus on Keith.

He's opening his mouth to vote nay when Rachel cocks her head and bats her eyelashes. "Yea," slips past his lips before he even realizes it, leaving Jon and Anderson baffled while Rachel and Stephen cheer loudly and high five obnoxiously with both hands.

"All right," Stephen says, grinning hugely. He reaches across the table, lifting Jon's glass and banging it against the table just like Jon did. "The yeas have it, and the Secret Santa Act of 2009 passes."

"The choosing of names will now commence," Rachel says, producing a pen from somewhere on her person. She grabs her cocktail napkin and rips it into five pieces before writing one name on each piece of paper.

"I don't understand," Jon says. "What just happened?"

"I think we're doing a Secret Santa," Anderson says, frowning. "I don't know why or how, but we are."

Keith has the decency to hang his head in shame.

 

**January 6, 2010**

No one is surprised when Jon hands Rachel a shoddily wrapped gift in the shape of a bottle, a squished bow resting on the top. "It was either this or something in a small baggie," Jon explains as Rachel turns the present over in her hands, feigning puzzlement.

"I can't imagine what this could be," she says with a straight face. She plucks the blue bow off the package and sticks it on Keith's head. He scowls, but leaves the bow there while Rachel tears into her gift, and there are chuckles all around as the wrapping paper falls away to reveal a bottle of cheap eggnog.

Grinning, Jon wags his finger at the bottle and says, "They guy at the liquor store assured me this is what they served at the White House. I asked if he was sure, and he said if it tastes any different, it's because of the atmosphere. Or was it the preservatives and the corn syrup? Either way, this is the good stuff."

Rachel just shakes her head. "Thank you, Jon. I'll make sure to have Keith taste test it." She takes the bow off Keith's head and sticks it on the gift bag she then hands to Jon.

Jon frowns as he hefts the bag, weighing its contents. "I have a sneaking suspicion we were of one mind on shopping, if not wrapping," he says, setting the bag on the table. He pushes aside the tissue paper and lifts out a bottle of Scotch whiskey. He starts to say thank you, but Rachel shakes her head.

"I just hope you realize that bottle is only half your present," she said. "It comes with a bonus drinking partner -- me."

Stephen leans over to examine the label, his eyebrows rising. "Can I get in on that drinking partner action?"

"Only if you pony up some cash," Rachel says, rubbing her fingers together in the universally understood gesture for money.

"Never mind," Stephen says, picking up a large gift bag and handing it to Anderson, who is surprised when it doesn't weigh much.

"What is it?" Anderson asks, frowning.

"Open it," Stephen urges, almost dancing in his seat from excitement.

Anderson shrugs and reaches into the bag. He pulls out something grey and furry that only makes him frown harder. "It's a wolf," he says, setting it on the table for the others to see. "You got me a wolf. I mean, not that I'm not grateful, but I don't understand."

Stephen rolls his eyes. "It's a silver fox," he says.

Keith stares at the stuffed animal. "I'm no Jeff Corwin, but it does appear to be a wolf."

"Definitely a wolf," Jon agrees, and Rachel nods.

"_Fine_," Stephen says, sighing dramatically. "It's a wolf. I couldn't find an actual silver fox. At least, not a stuffed one." He leers at Anderson, who chuckles uncomfortably and mumbles a thank you.

"You're welcome," Stephen says. He looks back and forth between Keith and Anderson. "Now, where's my present? Hand it over." He makes grabby hands.

"Here," Keith says, shoving a handful of papers at Stephen.

Stephen's face falls. "You shouldn't have," he says flatly.

"Read it," Keith says. He crosses his arms and sits back in his chair. "It's for tonight."

Stephen scans the pages, a grin stretching across his face as he reads. When he gets to the last line, he reads it out loud. "Stephen Colbert, tonight's Worst Person in the World!" he declares triumphantly. He beams at Keith. "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into."

"Oh, believe me," Rachel says, "I warned him. He did this with full knowledge of what he was getting into, so do your worst. I'll dull his pain with cheap eggnog."

"Uh," Anderson says, squirming uncomfortably, "speaking of dulling the pain..." He pushes a long, thin box toward Keith. It's neatly wrapped and has a surprising heft to it.

"I'm assuming this isn't a tie," Keith says, turning the box over. He slips his finger beneath the seam where the two sides of the wrapping paper meet, but he doesn't tear it yet.

"Uh, no," Anderson says. He scratches his ear and looks at Jon, hoping to be rescued.

"It's kind of a joint gift," Jon says. "For, or at least _about_, you and Rachel, from me and Anderson."

Wordlessly, Keith and Rachel trade glances before Keith rips the wrapping paper and reaches for the lid of the box. He hesitates to lift it, and Anderson takes the opportunity to blurt out, "If it helps, we bought it when we were still kind of opposed to the whole Secret Santa Act of 2009 thing."

"Is something going to jump out and attack me?" Keith asks.

"No," Jon says, "but only because we didn't think of that."

Rachel raises her eyebrows, and Keith flips the top off the box. Despite Jon's word, he jumps back as if the box might explode. Stephen bursts out laughing, but Keith doesn't have time to look inside the box before Anderson says, "It's a riding crop."

"Because, let's face it," Jon says, snickering, "you are kinda whipped."

And that's how Anderson, Jon, and Stephen end up in a three-way tie for that night's Worst Person in the World.


End file.
